What Three Years of Endo Has Taught Me

Living with endometriosis is living with a body that constantly asks for negotiation. For the past three years, chronic pain has been part of my everyday life—not as a dramatic moment, but as a steady presence that quietly shapes how I move through the world. It’s the kind of pain that doesn’t always announce itself loudly enough to be seen, yet it influences every decision: how I plan my days, how much energy I spend, how carefully I listen to my body. There is a deep loneliness in carrying pain that others can’t measure or fully understand. Continue reading

Trying to Exist Without Shrinking

Lately, I’ve been carrying around this feeling that things just aren’t going the way I want them to. I know that’s not unusual—life rarely follows a straight line, and I’ve made my peace with that, at least intellectually. I understand that setbacks happen, plans shift, and sometimes you just have to sit with discomfort until it passes.

But what’s been harder to accept is where that discomfort is coming from.

The people who are supposed to support me—the ones who should feel like solid ground—sometimes feel like the very ones pulling me down. Instead of lifting me up, I feel trapped in a space I don’t recognize or want to be in. It’s exhausting to feel like you’re constantly pushing forward while the people around you are quietly—or not so quietly—holding you back.

Most of the time, I feel alone. Even when I’m surrounded by people. Even when the room is full and the conversations are loud, there’s this persistent emptiness, this sense that I’m standing on the outside looking in. It feels like, at the end of the day, I only have myself. No real support system. No safe place to land when things get heavy. Continue reading

900 Books Later: Growing Through Stories

I’ve been reading for as long as I can remember—truly. I don’t have a single memory of my life before books. They’ve always been there, woven into every season of my childhood and every version of who I’ve become. Continue reading

“I Didn’t Ask to Be Born”: On Carrying a Weight That Was Never Mine

I came across this passage in a book recently—“I didn’t ask to be born though, and you don’t get to treat me how you do.” And something in me went still. Not because it was new, but because it echoed a truth I’ve carried for so long I almost forgot it had a name.

I never asked to be born.

None of us did.

Whatever decisions, impulses, accidents, prayers, or circumstances led to my existence—none of them were mine. I wasn’t consulted. I wasn’t invited into the room. I simply arrived, handed a life I didn’t choose, expectations I didn’t shape, and burdens that somehow ended up feeling like debts. Continue reading

The Things We Don’t Say Out Loud

We talk so much about dementia—how heartbreaking it is, how heavy it must feel to slowly lose pieces of yourself. And I agree. I truly do. My heart aches for anyone who has to live inside that confusion, that fog, that unpredictable shifting of reality.

But there’s another side to it that we don’t talk about as often.

A quieter story.

A softer kind of ache. Continue reading

Meteor Garden Fever

Meteor Garden (Taiwanese) had me in an intense chokehold when it aired in the Philippines back in 2003—I was absolutely obsessed. I remember begging my family to buy me all sorts of merch, from posters and keychains to photo cards and T-shirts—every member of my family can attest to this. It was such a huge part of my childhood, shaping my early teenage daydreams and giving me my first taste of Asianovela fever before I even knew what that was! So, finally getting to see National Chung Cheng University (Ying De in the series) in person—one of the most iconic filming locations—felt so surreal that I almost wanted to cry. Continue reading

Finding My Voice Again: Writing with More Heart

You might have noticed a shift in my writing style lately—and it’s very much intentional. I’ve been trying to write with more depth and genuine passion, letting my words carry more of what I truly feel and see. Looking back at some of my older posts, especially about our travels, I realized how much they lacked the heart and honesty I wanted them to have. Many of them felt rushed, a bit messy, and honestly, I rarely took the time to proofread. I used to just hit “publish” without a second thought, eager to share but not really caring how my words came across.

I’ve come to understand that writing, like any other craft, needs time, patience, and care. I don’t want my creative writing skills to become rusty or forgotten, especially when writing has always been such an important part of who I am. So I’m making it a point to slow down—to practice more, to revisit what I’ve learned from my past courses and certifications, and to simply enjoy the process again.

These days, I find myself paying more attention to the small details: the way a place made me feel, the fleeting moments that deserve to be remembered, the words that can bring a memory back to life. It’s not about writing something perfect—it’s about capturing something real, something that feels true to me.

In many ways, this change feels like coming home to myself. It’s a promise to keep nurturing this side of me, to write not just for the sake of sharing but also for the joy of creating. I hope you feel that shift when you read my posts now—more thoughtful, a bit more raw, and hopefully a lot more me.

The Dusty Diary #4 🌸

And, thus, the heart will break, yet brokenly live on. – Lord Byron

As the campaign period comes to an end and the election day is over, I would like to say that it has been an honor to fight and spread the right information alongside the woman with the cleanest track record amongst all the candidates. The partial and unofficial tallies have been disheartening, but whatever the outcome will be, I know that, we, the supporters have to accept it. I’d be lying if I say that I never shed a tear because of the results because I did. I cried at random moments of the day, but who wouldn’t? I guess, I invested too much of everything during the campaign period or maybe I had my hopes up way too high.

Regardless, I know that we fought a good fight and I will never regret supporting the person that BBC called the “dream candidate.” The past couple of months have given me hope for a better tomorrow and a clearer future for those who are heavily dependent on the government’s performance, albeit it might not be the case right now based on the partial and unofficial results. To me, the light bulb of hope that I had up until the morning of May 9th turned into a lit match stick, but at least there’s still light. Who knows, right?

We were fighting for good governance, and I don’t understand how that could be wrong. It was never about the candidate, but more about her values, principles, and dreams for a better country. It just so happens that she is the sole candidate who embodied (and still does) these things — she shared our hopes and dreams for a better country. We were not fighting for her, but rather with her. Personally, one of my reasons why I fought with her against a regime known for human rights abuse, kleptocracy, and dictatorship is to avoid reopening wounds that would hurt the elderlies who have lost a loved one and have been hurt during the dark days of the Philippines. Alas, these things have been forgotten by the people. It pains me to witness this happening firsthand, but if this is what the people have decided on, then so be it. That’s democracy, after all.

Despite their victory, some of us are grieving the loss of a possible honest and transparent government. Being mocked by others for being sad and for being silent hurts not because we are embarrassed, but because we knew that the fight wasn’t entirely for us, but for those who are depending on the government’s performance (o mga nasa laylayan). People keep on saying that no one should depend on the government in order to live their life, that we all have the power to write our story to be successful, but a lot of people in our laylayan have been working their asses off day after day for the past years or even decades, but still remain to be part of the marginalized poor. Not having to understand this just show how privileged we are.

In any case, whoever is proclaimed the new leaders of this country, I would like to wish them good luck and may they both serve the Filipinos with the best of their will. And just like what I wrote in 2016, I will continue to be vigilant — I will continue to call out any injustice that may arise, because that’s my responsibility as a Filipino.

Golden Year: 28 on the 28th

DSCF1917

Today, I turn the same age as my birthdate which makes this year as my golden year. I never knew about this until my cousin told me a couple of days ago that that’s what it’s called and it all just clicked — this year has been really good to me so far. I know the first quarter of 2022 is only about to end, but I really feel that 2022 is going to be a year of redemption for me! I know that whatever it is that’s happening in my life right now, my successes and happiness is a result of everything I’ve worked hard for in the past years, but it’s still nice to think that the universe is conspiring enough for me to be as happy as I can be. Continue reading